


The Shadow of Night, a Beam of Dawnlight

by sparklight



Category: Juuni Kokki | Twelve Kingdoms
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 09:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3406100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklight/pseuds/sparklight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a meme response where the meme was "my character comes back bloody and confused after being gone for weeks, what do yours do?", because the thought just wouldn't let me alone.</p><p>So, simply; worried Rokuta being himself and Shoryu coming back, not quite whole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shadow of Night, a Beam of Dawnlight

The problem didn't lie in the fact that Shoryu had _disappeared_ , Rokuta thought with the sort of quiet snarling fierceness that would have had him snap insults and _mean them_. The problem was that Shoryu had disappeared and was _incommunicado_. It lay in the fact that the pretty routine attempt by the ministers at badgering the useless everking of En to _please_ at least _try_ to remember to make at least one single court appearance this season as that would greatly smooth the governing of the land had gone undelivered.

Such missives would never go _undelivered_.

The second part of the problem was that _he_ hadn't found out about the issue of the plea coming back without having reached its intended target until two weeks after the ministers had found their letter undelivered. He'd been in Hourai and then he'd taken the leisurely way back to Shadowlore, enjoying the warming early summer breezes which were edging in onto true summer.

And that, then, led to _now_.

Two months and counting after the disappearance of the king.

"Nothing? What do you mean _nothing_? We should've had one of those over-blown, completely ridiculous ransom notes for his useless behind by now! At the _least_!" Rokuta refused to even briefly touch upon the thought of 'they could just have killed him', because that thought was simply not to be thought, and if that was the case, they would notice soon either way...

"Taiho---"

"Do I gotta do _everything_ myself?!" scowling, Rokuta whirled around, aiming for the window open to the afternoon breeze - despite the fact that he'd only come through that very same window merely half an hour earlier. Didn't matter.

"Taiho, _please_." The hand stopped right before it fell on his shoulder, a hovering shadow weight that counted for nothing and was all the more at fault to even attempt to touch him considering that it was all _wrong_. 

It did not radiate the gentle warmth that had nothing to do with body heat. It didn't not catch his attention by that faint light he could always see in the corner of his eye when the hand came that close, right before it landed with a heavy, reassuring weight on his shoulder.

The hand now hovering above his shoulder and causing Rokuta to duck and twist away from it, turning around to stare narrowly up at the grand steward marshal of En, was also too delicate.

"I can cover more ground than anyone else, so---"

"And if you fall from your shirei or stumble from lack of food while trekking across the land, I'm quite sure his majesty would have us all executed when he returns, for failure to keep you in good health so you can do the best for the kingdom in his absence," Shuko snapped, concern roughening his voice as he lost his patience.

Rokuta stared up at the minister, expression dark and about to turn around _regardless_ of the logic in those words - though he doubted Shoryu would _execute them_ , well, _maybe_ \- when a gentle darkness swept up from his own shadow and bleached into white, feathers and warmth. The hand that fell on his shoulder gently, wordlessly, pressed him _sideways_ instead of _backwards_.

Sideways, where two servants had just finished setting platters on the table in that end of the room, instead of backwards where the open window and the insistent, tempting breeze still wafted in.

"... Yokuhi," swallowing the tension gathered under his tongue, the heat behind his eyes, Rokuta tilted his head back and met her dark eyes, her face pinched even as her hand, insistent as it was, was still soft on his shoulder. Wrong, but still not, because Yokuhi could never be _wrong_. She was a different sort of rightness, gentle warmth and embracing concern to Shoryu's razor light and heavy, comfortable _assurance_.

Not that he'd _ever_ tell the idiot king _that_.

"Please sit down and _eat_ , Taiho," Shuko implored again, joined in silent entreaty by Itan's presence at the door. Rokuta looked between them, hands fisting at his sides until his fists trembled and his knuckles were white. But while neither of _them_ might have convinced him, Yokuhi's hand on his shoulder, her wings spread just enough to create a pocket of white feathers to shield him and her dark-eyed concern _did_.

"... _Fine_." Frowning, Rokuta followed his nyokai's gentle pull, sat down on the low couch and reached for the nearest bowl of rice while Yokuhi sat down beside him. One hand resting on his head and the other handing him bowls, small platters, or simply picked up morsels to offer by hand, Yokuhi seemed to be pretty insistent to make sure he ate.

Her hand didn't leave his head and soon it had progressed from merely _resting_ where it was to lightly stroking, fingertips rubbing _just so_ against his scalp in a practised movement that made sure her sharp, pointed nails neither scraped the scalp nor caught in his mane. Frowning into his food, Rokuta barely noticed when Shuko and Itan left with quick, silent bows and the door slid closed with barely a scrape or click of the heavy wood.

Yokuhi's left wing was extended around him, and while he hadn't _planned to_ , he ended up leaning against her as he ate, surprised by how much he managed to put away. Her hand didn't stop, and while it still wasn't exactly _right_ , it was familiar, reassuring and most of all _unceasing_.

... Unsurprisingly, Rokuta ended up asleep, curled up on the couch and resting his head against his nyokai's thigh.

Yokuhi's smile was slow and gentle, but the corners of her mouth couldn't quite stay untwisted as her kirin frowned in his sleep, hands clutching at the couch and into fists. The worries surely causing the restlessness weren't real yet. 

She hoped.

There was no proof that the king was dead, and so Enki wouldn't have to search for a new king. Yokuhi imagined it would be harder than the first time, if it ever had to happen... With a sigh, she looked down at her charge and continued to run her hand through his mane. At least he was resting now.

Rokuta might be sleeping, but it wasn't a _restful_ sleep. At some level he simply couldn't relax, though at least he wasn't weak from having his horn bound or having blood splattered all over his back this time. No, this time there was _only_ an unknown distance between him and Shoryu, this time... compared to that other time when they had known where he was, _he_ didn't know where the annoying, vagabond _thief_ was.

Frowning in his sleep, Rokuta turned and buried his face into Yokuhi's hip, sleep still embracing him but slowly receding for a twitching and bright pull. While Rokuta might have preferred to not sleep after eating, his body had decided it had had enough and was going to sleep. Now, however, only two hours after falling asleep and even as his body fought to _stay_ asleep, the rest of him was, quite unaware, turning towards the call for attention.

"... better be lying...in a ditch... somewhere... drunk off his---" Rokuta mumbled before he realised he was awake and twisted upright with a start, eyes and mane wild. The only reason he didn't fall off the couch and bash his head on the table was due to Yokuhi catching his shoulders and pulling him back.

"I..." looking around, Rokuta frowned. He could have _sworn_...

Stilling, head slowly tilting to the side, he looked around again as his frown deepened. No, he hadn't imagined, hadn't _dreamed_ it; there seemed to be a brightness just at the edge of his vision that kept dancing out of the way, but also didn't _disappear_. Yokuhi's hands on his shoulders were light, but the warmth he could feel didn't come from her body heat seeping through the cloth covering his shoulders.

No, it came from somewhere else _entirely_.

Staring at the window for a suspended moment, not _quite_ comprehending what he was feeling despite knowing _exactly_ what it was, Yokuhi standing up behind him spurred Rokuta into action. 

He didn't call for Rikaku. He didn't do more than briefly reach behind him, unerringly finding Yokuhi's hand to squeeze before he leaped over the table, crossed the floor and jumped out through the window. His clothes were left like a breadcrumb trail across the floor, scattered and rumpled. 

His mane and tail streaming behind him in the strengthening afternoon wind, Rokuta darted through the air, down paths and stairs and over terraces, through the Gates and away from the palace until he was in the world below the Cloud Sea. Racing the shadow of Shadowlore down the mountain and across Kankyuu, he leapt up from the roads so he could avoid the throngs and merely have to concern himself with the buildings, and then just slightly higher than even _that_ , just barely high enough to clear the tallest of the buildings in the city.

The further he went, the brighter it became, and even as angry hope clawed on his insides and made him attempt to outrun his own shadow, Rokuta hoped he'd find the useless pirate swaying along the road - nevermind that he never got _that_ drunk - bottle in hand, and not finding him bloody and tossed over the back of a horse and an armed regiment of opportunists with a real or imagined gripe as reason for their treatment of their king 'escorting' him.

Anything but a repeat of Gen. 

Anything, since there was even _less reason_ for that now. What could even the complaint _be_? Had they missed something? Miscalculated the needs of a province or village somewhere? Not gotten reports of youma wandering in from elsewhere? Rokuta couldn't figure out what the issue might be, but his attempts at reasoned thoughts were getting increasingly scattered as he passed the city walls and landed with dust barely stirring around his hooves.

Rokuta didn't _stop there_ however, and, ignoring the shouts of the guards and people at the gate behind him, took off down the road. It sliced through the landscape sharp and bright like a bronze knife in the sunlight, leading out through the province and between fields. The path he'd been looking for without even knowing he was wound off to the side barely a few minutes' run from Kankyuu, with fields on one side and an orchard on the other, the hard-packed ground dappled by sunlight.

Dust settling around his hooves and light gilding his pale flanks, Rokuta slowed to a reluctant trot, every step expecting him to see the shadows of a fully armed contingent rumbling down the path stretching out in front of him.

All the path gave him as he picked his way along it, however, was the play of light and shadow on the ground, the green ruffling of leaves being brushed by wind and the silhouettes of workers in the fields to the right and in the orchard to the left. There were no armed malcontents, or even a concerned or confused escort. Even less youma harassing their prey (however improbable that would be in the very heart of En); no, the path was clear besides the kirin trotting along, wind and motion rippling through his mane and tail.

Had he been wrong..?

Had his sleep-addled mind mistaken _wish-fulfilment_ for _reality_ \---

The path split into two ahead, one fork bending around the corner of the field, the other the same for the orchard, and the man who limped around said bend from the orchard-side was no farmer.

Oh, anyone could be excused for _thinking him a farmer_ (and a poor one at that!), given his clothing and the state of it. A second look, however, would reveal the wrapped bulk of a sword on his back, and the length and shine of his hair, no matter how tangled, was not that of a farmer's.

A tremble ran through Rokuta at the sight, sending a ripple through the short, fine pelt like the wind had suddenly turned ice-cold. It wasn't _cold_ he felt as he burst forward, however, but light. Light and warmth and a pervading sense of _rightness_ that he nearly always resented - _feared_ \- but for the moment, that last was lacking.

"Shoryu---" the cry slipped out before he was aware of it, but what was more alarming than _that_ , was the way Shoryu's head snapped up to stare at him and yet his eyes were unfocused. It was as if Shoryu was not quite following what he was seeing - but then his gaze sharpened and his hand came up, a sharp slice in the air between them.

"Rokuta, _stop_!"

"Gah!" Rearing, tossing his head and sending beams of light bouncing off his horn, Rokuta staggered on two legs before he went down sidelong across from Shoryu to all fours, eyes wide as he stared. Shoryu was swaying just slightly again, favouring one leg and sporting a slight pinch to his expression that was completely separate from the sudden fierce set of his eyes.

"What?" Rokuta snapped, annoyance pushing down the glittering _relief_ as he narrowed his eyes, somehow managing to scrunch up his expression even in his true form as he stomped a hoof, "you're gone gallivanting across the countryside like it's a drunken holiday for over two months, without a single word to those hovering hens you call ministers, and you _tell me to stop_?"

He was going to _push the idiot he called a king_ to the ground and snort in his _face_.

Shoryu's face sort of twitched and his eyes brightened for a moment, but it was the particular angle of the corner of his mouth that made Rokuta stomp his hoof again and take a deliberately long step forward.

" _Rokuta_..." Shoryu's burgeoning amusement disappeared like a candle snuffed, but Rokuta's second step had stopped mid-air as a scent caught in his nostrils and a pressure pushed against him, _quite unlike_ that of Shoryu's lambent presence.

It smelled of iron, violence, intent to kill and maim, to _live_. It smelled like death... and blood.

Scrambling back in a way that probably looked _quite ridiculous_ on four legs instead of two and would normally have Shoryu laughing, Rokuta heard nothing from his king beyond a sigh and a mildly exasperated look sent his way.

"You _should_ listen to your king every now and then, regardless of what you think of his orders or person," Shoryu said, head tilting while an eyebrow climbed up his forehead. Rokuta huffed, remarkably alike but not _quite_ the snort he could do in human guise, and glowered.

"You're _injured_!"

Now that he was actually paying attention, Rokuta could tell there wasn't just _old blood_ \- both Shoryu's and not - on the dirty, ragged clothes and probably hidden underneath, but also the tangled, matted nest of hair partly hidden by his ponytail, and lastly, there was also fresh such. Shoryu's feet were raw and he still had one hand tucked into his kimono, having only used his left so far. At least whatever caused him to walk with a limp wasn't a break, but what was there was bad enough.

Then there was the miasma of darkened _intent_ and _violence_ that clung like smoke from a fire around Shoryu, anchored by the slight fuzziness Rokuta could still see in the depths of Shoryu's otherwise clear eyes.

"Astute observation. That _would_ be reason I told you to _stop_ , Rokuta. I need you alert and able, not _swooning on the ground_."

"Says the man barely able to _stand_. Why haven't you _washed_? Had those injuries looked at? _What happened_?!" How dare he act as if Rokuta being affected by the blood and general ugly _unpleasantness_ Shoryu had apparently insisted on surrounding himself with was _his fault_?

He was well on the way to unleash another few choice words, spurred by over two long months of nothing, of crossing En and beyond like his tail was on fire, of ignoring pleas to eat and sleep, of ignoring the tasks the ministers tried to push on him in the absence of the king, of over two months of said _absent king_ without knowing _where_ he was, but Shoryu's expression going from tightly amused to crumpled as he shook his head and waved a hand to ward off the questions, had Rokuta stilling them.

Well, not _precisely_.

It was rather the way the brief attempt at _thinking_ and those dark eyes flickering as Shoryu winced (and tried to hide said wince), that stopped the intended outburst of frustration. That response was frankly _terrifying_ , and Rokuta almost took a step closer again before he stopped and spoke over Shoryu opening his mouth.

"Rikaku!"

The shirei flowed out of the shadows as if he'd been waiting for the command and darted over to Shoryu without having been told, pressing his flank to the king's side to alleviate his bad leg. Rokuta pretended not to see the way Shoryu relaxed into Rikaku and instead glared at his king in a way a kirin probably shouldn't be able to.

"Since letting you walk back to Kankyuu at your own _leisure_ 's gonna take longer than it took you to get back _here_ considering you ain't gonna want to go back to work, and _then_ also result in you getting distracted along the way, Rikaku'll give you a lift," tossing his head, Rokuta managed a pretty impressive impression of doing a sniff, "you _might_ warrant an escort by myself, but since you've rolled in _filth_ \---"

"I'll mourn the loss of the chance to ride my glorified donkey like the tragedy it is, most assuredly," Shoryu interrupted him with a smile that, as reassuring as it was, was noticeably soft at the edges, and not in a good way. At least Shoryu was now getting up on Rikaku and didn't have to be _ushered_ there.

"The donkey's reconsidering the lift you so _sorely need_ ," Rokuta snapped, but despite that looked to Rikaku with a twitch of his head and _despite_ the situation, nickered as the shirei shot up in the air, forcing Shoryu to grab on and interrupting whatever reply he'd been about to make.

Raising his head to be able to follow his shirei as it darted between the trees and disappeared up in the sky towards Kankyuu and Shadowlore, Rokuta shivered again, leaning into the hand that came to rest with ghostly gentleness on his neck. Another tremble went through him and he turned around to bury his head as much as he was able into Yokuhi's stomach as her arms came up to caress the sides of his head and down his neck. In the silence, her feathers whispered soothingly in a way that had nothing to do with being buffeted by the breeze.

A few long, silent moments later, Rokuta tossed his head and turned around, starting to walk back along the path. Yokuhi stayed beside him, a white shadow in the lengthening of the darker ones thrown by the trees and Rokuta himself.

Despite the rush he'd been in when getting here and the energy bubbling away right beneath his pelt still, Rokuta and his nyokai wandered back at what could be called nothing else but a stroll, watching the sun slowly descend and causing the monumental shadow that Mount Kankyuu threw across the land to grow even longer.

Whether or not there'd ever be a full explanation of what had happened to Shoryu while he was gone, at least he was _back_. Looking around the empty fields on each side of the road as he walked, Rokuta could finally admit to the visions he'd had of these green fields browned and then razed, turned to little more than hard, cracked earth. To the images of Kankyuu, Ugou, the other cities and villages ruined and smoking. Of armed bands with no purpose other than their own survival wandering the land and razing what wasn't already destroyed in their quest to survive. Thoughts of youma thick in the air and on the ground.

Because that's what would have happened, sooner or later, if Shoryu had disappeared in a way that meant he had died.

All kings and lords are the destruction of their countries, whether that comes from ill ruling or from their deaths.

Raising his head to look at the shadowed pillar disappearing up into the Cloud Sea that was Mount Kankyuu and Shadowlore palace, Rokuta stared up without seeing the current gilded, lit-up buildings.

All he saw was ruined darkness; the fate of all kingdoms when their lords have failed or fallen.

The sudden touch on his neck had Rokuta jerking and then leaning into Yokuhi, startled out of the darkness he'd only now allowed himself to fall into, but kept off for months while looking for Shoryu.

"Let's go," Rokuta muttered and Yokuhi melted into his shadow as he jumped up and away from the moon-silvered ground for a faster way home. The half-moon hung in the sky between the fields and Kankyuu's darkened pillar as he rose through the air, creating sharp shadows and soft light. He did not quite run the rest of the way back, but neither did he fly at the equivalent of a crawl, spiralling up around Kankyuu and then through each of the Gates so he was above the Cloud Sea and in the palace itself, following the brightness like he'd done when he left the palace.

He landed, predictably, at the sprawling terrace that stretched along Shoryu's private rooms, hooves ringing as they hit the stones. The doors he was looking for were open, and a set of clothes lay neatly folded on the low, broad stool that was, like usual, placed on this side behind the screen that shielded the doors from the rest of the room.

Changing was like cool water running over him and Rokuta spared little time in pulling the clothes on before he stepped around the screen, looking around the room with narrowed eyes.

It was almost empty, warmly lit by widely spaced lamps, but the proof of visitors sat on a table; a cooling bowl of clear, unbloodied water, bandages and some bottles and containers. Clearly left behind should they be needed again, as nothing else betrayed that there had been anyone through these rooms other than the man now (again) laying in the large bed.

Modesty barely paid attention to with the assistance of a kimono most sloppily tied, Shoryu wasn't particularly _pale_ in the yellow lamplight. No more than he ever was, but the fall of his hair seemed starker than usual where it trailed over a shoulder and down his bared chest, and the bandage around his head and the one basically trapping his right hand into a stiff prison stood out startlingly against both his skin and the dark, richly embroidered cover he lay under.

"It seems kirin truly _are_ divine beasts of benevolence of mercy, if you are here instead of in bed," Shoryu said with a dry twist to his lips, but he held out his left hand in offering.

"As much as you _deserve it_ , given your willingness to avoid work goes to such _amazingly elaborate_ heights," Rokuta huffed even as he crossed the floor, hardly thinking as he went down to his knees by the edge of the bed, one hand fisting into the covers, crumpling and twisting the delicate embroidery.

The hand that landed on his head was the unbandaged one, nimbly threading fingers around the fine, golden strands of his mane.

"I guess I am uncommonly blessed, then." Shoryu's voice was still uncharacteristically mild, though there was amusement underneath the warmth. Rokuta snorted and closed his eyes. He could see the light still, and that was reassuring.

" _Idiot_."

The hand in his mane merely rubbed his scalp in response.


End file.
